08-05-2009, 01:48 PM
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Cwmfen’s white gaze was locked upon the hidden eyes of the one that she loved. The disbelief was strong within them, for they had never expected to find that the fruit she bore would have been conceived by their love. Onus’ expression held his thoughts openly such was their suddenness, and it struck her then with the force of a fist’s powerful strike. When could this have happened? Perhaps it had been the last time she had lain with him—would that have been near enough? It would have had to been, the woad-marked fae told herself. It was the only practical explanation. But her thoughts were broken by the sudden words of the Caregiver, and she turned to face her, shaking away her awe. "Thank you, Alexey," she offered quietly, and was truly thankful that the golden-eyed woman had been present. Not wishing to keep her from the Lilium’s boys, the Adonis did not stop her and dipped her maw in respectful farewell.
A wren sang. The warrior looked up, finding two small birds above within the trees, engaged in the summer mating. The gods had called her pregnancy a gift, and the Raven too had shown the Dreams of the black hands of the crow wolf unable to touch her womb. The white orbs lowered to the two small creatures that she had given life to, the soft sounds of their mewling tickling her ears as they struggled to drink from her. The feeling of their tiny mouths around her made a soft intake of breath sound. It was an uncomfortable sensation, she decided, but their toothless mouths were gentle still. Slowly, as the silence grew about them and the retreating of Alexey’s departure grew quiet in the distance, the she-wolf’s gaze lifted to find her lover. For a moment longer she was still. "They are yours, Onus," the melody said, at last breaking the silence of their disbelief. A gift these pups had been. She released her breath as a soft, golden smile graced her maw. She had never asked for pups, had never desired them. But that these two belonged to the one that she loved was more than she could have asked for.
Slowly, her woad-marked form shifted, careful so as to not disrupt the efforts of her young and yet protecting them with her body. And then she allowed exhaustion to overtake her, lowering her head to the soft grasses and closing her eyes. Relief could not be the word to describe what it was that she felt moving within her. There was no word that she could find to explain that yellow emotion, yellow like the light of the Lughnasadh dawn. Releasing a quavering breath, she could feel the own trembling of her body, the dull and sharp pain, and the reknewed soreness of her leg. "What shall we name them?" Her voice sang easily now with the songs of the dawn. Her eyes opened, half-lidded in the brightening world, and it seemed as if the whiteness was glowing for the darkness of her fur. While the black wolf did not require names for worldly entities, the luperci understood the importance of such names, believing that somehow the labels would help to shape the minds of the young. "Something from your world, not mine." The world of Caledonia had long been left behind, and the pups would not remember that culture of which they would not be a part.
Cwmfen’s white gaze was locked upon the hidden eyes of the one that she loved. The disbelief was strong within them, for they had never expected to find that the fruit she bore would have been conceived by their love. Onus’ expression held his thoughts openly such was their suddenness, and it struck her then with the force of a fist’s powerful strike. When could this have happened? Perhaps it had been the last time she had lain with him—would that have been near enough? It would have had to been, the woad-marked fae told herself. It was the only practical explanation. But her thoughts were broken by the sudden words of the Caregiver, and she turned to face her, shaking away her awe. "Thank you, Alexey," she offered quietly, and was truly thankful that the golden-eyed woman had been present. Not wishing to keep her from the Lilium’s boys, the Adonis did not stop her and dipped her maw in respectful farewell.
A wren sang. The warrior looked up, finding two small birds above within the trees, engaged in the summer mating. The gods had called her pregnancy a gift, and the Raven too had shown the Dreams of the black hands of the crow wolf unable to touch her womb. The white orbs lowered to the two small creatures that she had given life to, the soft sounds of their mewling tickling her ears as they struggled to drink from her. The feeling of their tiny mouths around her made a soft intake of breath sound. It was an uncomfortable sensation, she decided, but their toothless mouths were gentle still. Slowly, as the silence grew about them and the retreating of Alexey’s departure grew quiet in the distance, the she-wolf’s gaze lifted to find her lover. For a moment longer she was still. "They are yours, Onus," the melody said, at last breaking the silence of their disbelief. A gift these pups had been. She released her breath as a soft, golden smile graced her maw. She had never asked for pups, had never desired them. But that these two belonged to the one that she loved was more than she could have asked for.
Slowly, her woad-marked form shifted, careful so as to not disrupt the efforts of her young and yet protecting them with her body. And then she allowed exhaustion to overtake her, lowering her head to the soft grasses and closing her eyes. Relief could not be the word to describe what it was that she felt moving within her. There was no word that she could find to explain that yellow emotion, yellow like the light of the Lughnasadh dawn. Releasing a quavering breath, she could feel the own trembling of her body, the dull and sharp pain, and the reknewed soreness of her leg. "What shall we name them?" Her voice sang easily now with the songs of the dawn. Her eyes opened, half-lidded in the brightening world, and it seemed as if the whiteness was glowing for the darkness of her fur. While the black wolf did not require names for worldly entities, the luperci understood the importance of such names, believing that somehow the labels would help to shape the minds of the young. "Something from your world, not mine." The world of Caledonia had long been left behind, and the pups would not remember that culture of which they would not be a part.